


Endless Skies

by FleetSparrow



Category: Ghost Riders in the Sky (Song)
Genre: my favorite type of song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 21:23:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12992805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetSparrow/pseuds/FleetSparrow
Summary: Jim Strickland lived a hard life, not necessarily an honest one.  He's about to get the warning of his life.





	Endless Skies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OzQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OzQueen/gifts).



Jim Strickland had lived a hard life. He'd like to say it was an honest one, but honesty don't mean much out on the range. Good luck and spit mean more. Sure, sometimes he'd gambled his pay away, or drank it all until he saw stars in the day time, but that didn't mean nothing. It was just the way of the land, and every cowboy would tell you that.

Of course, then, there was that time he'd herded away some young dogies only to sell them off to another rancher, but hell, a man needs money to live. He's gotta eat somehow. And old man Macready wasn't gonna pay him nearly as much for them anyhow.

Jim was never one for regrets. He figured in the long run, your debits and your credits all totaled up to a big fat nothing. If you didn't live for the range, you died on the range, and that was that. What you had to do to survive didn't make much of a difference.

It had been weeks since his last round up, and even longer since his money had gone, so the old cowpoke went riding out into the desert alone to sleep once again under the stars. It was a dark and windy day, the kind of day that brings not a lot of good, but plenty of bad. He'd almost lost his horse when a tumbleweed storm kicked up beside him, spooking the old thing half to death. What he needed to find was a valley, a nice quieter spot where the winds just howled and left a man alone to think and to drink.

He stopped up on a ridge, letting his old horse get a quick rest before he headed down for the night. Jim pulled a bottle out of his pack, the last drop of drink he had before he had to go back into town. He settled down beside an old stump and took a long drink. Yes, life hadn't always been too good to Jim, but then, he hadn't always been too good to life, neither.

Slowly, the sound of distant hooves caught his ear. There was the sound of pounding cattle and faintly, he could hear the cry of the cowboys herding them. He looked off into the distance -- the land was flat as can be -- but there wasn't even the shadow of a herd barreling down the range. Sure he was hearing things, he took another swig. The desert could play some mighty funny tricks on a guy out alone.

The noise grew louder and Jim looked down into the valley below. Not a stone was jumping out of place. He was about to drink again when his horse suddenly kicked up its hooves, letting out an awful scream. He looked up and there it was. A mighty herd of red-eyed cows ploughing through the ragged sky up in a cloudy draw.

A ghost herd in the sky.

He swore under his breath as he watched the beasts run, snorting a heat he could feel even down below. Their brands were still on fire and their hooves were made of steel. Their horns were black and shiny as a moonless night. A bolt of fear went through him as they thundered through the sky, running as though the devil himself spurred them on. He could see the riders behind them, running up a storm. One by one, they started up a mournful cry.

"Yippee-yi-ay, yippee-yi-ohhh!"

Ghost riders in the sky.

Their faces gaunt, their eyes were blurred, like men after too many sleepless nights. Their shirts soaked with sweat, they rode hard on horses snorting fire. Jim had heard stories of these riders from hell, usually from old drunks in the saloons, desperate for a drink or a couple of bits, or some of the old timers too far gone to know what they were saying. That didn't mean Jim had believed any of them. He reckoned they were only seen by those going out of their minds a little. But here they were now, riding forever in that range up in the sky.

"Yippee-yi-ay, yippee-yi-ohhh!"

The ghost riders in the sky.

"Jim Strickland!"

As the riders loped on by him, one called out his name.

"Jim Strickland!

"If you want to save your soul from hell riding on our range, then cowboy change your ways today! Or with us you will ride, trying to catch the devil's herd across these endless skies!"

Jim had never been more spooked in his whole life, not from drink, from threats, or from the traveling preachers who roamed town to town calling down hellfire and damnation. Jim looked for the one who'd called his name, and his blood went cold.

It was old Johnny Cassidy what died only three months previous from pneumonia. He and Johnny had ridden years together, sharing suppers, secrets, and whiskey. Johnny had always been a good friend to Jim through a lot of bad times. Poor old devil.

"Change your ways, Jim Strickland!" Johnny yelled again. "Change your ways!"

"I will, Johnny," he whispered to the sky. "I will. I swear it. I swear it on my own grave."

The cowboys whipped their horses hard, crying out as they rode on.

"Yippee-yi-ay, yippee-yi-ohhh!"

The cowboys are riding still up in the skies. Sometimes you might hear them as you pass along on lonely desert nights. That rumbling might not be a storm. That cry you hear carrying might not be just the wind. Be careful if they call your name or you might wind up like old Johnny Cassidy.

And Jim? Well, Jim Strickland took to heart what Johnny had warned him. He tossed that bottle of whiskey and went back to town to find some honest work. He never did gamble or drink again. Never stole no cattle neither. But he warned every cowpoke he met to change their ways or meet the devil's herd. By the time you see them, it might be too late for you, he warned.

The old folks nodded along, but the young dudes laughed at the old man. Lost himself, they'd say. Rode one too many herds in and wrecked his brain. But he warned them all the same.

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoyed reading it!


End file.
